What Did I Do?

Man, what did I do? I hurt my friend. That’s the last thing I wanted to do, but because of my steamrolling attempts to be funny or wisecracking or perhaps as a form of self-defense, I went too far.

It’s not the first time my words have gotten me in trouble. Now I find myself wondering: Do I unconsciously want to hurt people? When did I stop being the quiet and overly nice girl of my youth and become this person that I am today? The one who doesn’t stop to think as quickly as she used to about another person’s feelings? The one who is ferociously trying to stop the so-called injustices that only exist in her mind?

About a year and a half ago I wrote something that ended up hurting a lot of people. What may be surprising is that I didn’t care. I actually wrote it knowing it was mean. I wanted her to read it and weep. I guess I was trying to make up for pain that I was feeling. I threw out the “two wrongs don’t make a right” argument that my mom had reminded me of numerous times as a child. I stood steadfast to the principle of censorship and how I had the right to write what I wanted. Perhaps that was true, but when I stopped to think—really stopped to think—about how it made others feel, I realized that I was hiding behind my ostensible principles and using them falsely as an excuse.

About seven years ago I met the meanest person I have ever encountered. She was the first person I had ever met that hated me. She never liked me and made me feel like shit. I became obsessed with trying to get others to see those traits, trying to make them see how I was being treated unfairly, and how mean she was to others. But no one seemed to care as much as I did. I decided I would go against the grain to hold my ground. Yet no one seemed to care about how I felt or how I believed that I was being disrespected. After seven years, I didn’t win that fight; I walked away from it claiming victory, never giving in, and never accepting her faults. Although a huge part of me knows that I didn’t win.

Then three years ago I suffered the greatest hurt of my life at the hands of fate. But no one seemed to care as much as I thought they should. I then became obsessed with the idea of wrong versus right, fair versus unfair. Up until that point, I naïvely believed that bad things happened to bad people and that good behavior was rewarded. Then suddenly I stood face-to-face with injustice. I finalized my theory that a loving God couldn’t possibly exist. I questioned everything. I became embittered, only to be affirmed once again of the universe’s incorrigible lack of justice earlier this year, yet this time I wasn’t as surprised.

Thus, my childhood kindness melted leaving a hardened misanthropist.

And now I am reminded of the fact that I lost that battle because I have let the person I have become hurt one of my closest friends. That person has emerged like a demon, writing things that my kinder self wouldn’t have written. I have awakened like a sleepwalker to realize that in my slumber I was replaced by someone I don’t even recognize.

And yet . . .

I think my friend knows I am sorry and that I didn’t intentionally want to hurt him. I thought I was being funny. I bombed. And we both agreed this morning that our friendship is too strong for all of this. Maybe I should write the word “ass” about fifty times because that word seems to be a prevalent theme on our blog. (Seriously, I like that word WAY too much.)

So I leave you with a joke, since my reputation for humor may proceed me and because I will work on my demon side another day . . . [enter evil laugh here.]


How does Bush feel about Roe v. Wade?










He doesn’t care how people get out of New Orleans.

:)